


To Make Amends (The Wheel Stops Spinning Remix)

by Estirose



Category: Phantom Passenger That Wants A Ride Home (Urban Legend)
Genre: Gen, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 08:09:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15945278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estirose/pseuds/Estirose
Summary: Ruth finds a way to make amends for something her father did years ago.





	To Make Amends (The Wheel Stops Spinning Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DesertVixen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertVixen/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Wheel Spins Round](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2476895) by [DesertVixen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertVixen/pseuds/DesertVixen). 



She remembered picking up the passenger.

The girl had been cold, shivering in the wet weather. Ruth didn’t like to drive in that kind of weather, not with what her parents had told her that night. They’d taken a drive, and then they’d crashed into a wall, but both were fine. 

Ruth hadn’t found out until later that there had been a woman hitchhiking home that night, that she’d died when their car had plowed into the hitchhiker. Her father had tried to wash most of the blood off, but she’d seen it. But he’d cowed her, just like he’d cowed her mother, and she’d never been able to say a thing. She’d found out from her mother, of course, because a secret yearns to be let out.

At least there was justice. Even if he’d never gone up against judge and jury, God had taken him – or the Devil had.

But Ruth still couldn’t talk about it. So, in a sort of weird penance, she’d seen the girl – dripping wet in a prom dress – and agreed to take her home.

"I’m Ruth," she’d said.

"Diana," her passenger had replied. They’d shaken hands. Diana’s were cold.

But of course, she’d been standing in the cold, so Ruth had not thought anything of it. She just drove where Diana had directed her to go, and as she turned, she realized that Diana wasn’t there. Had she imagined the whole thing?

There was nothing to do but ask.

Ruth asked the woman who answered the door. "She’s been dead 19 years, my Diana," and Ruth had found herself running, fleeing. Trying to make sense of the whole thing.

Her mother had passed away shortly after her father. She didn’t have her mother to ask, but she still had her things. She dug through the chest, finding a favorite book of her mother’s here, a hat there, even some things she’d never gone through, because she’d found it impossible to go through.

But if she could find a clipping, a letter, anything that her father or her mother had left behind, maybe it would tell her if that had been Diana’s blood on the car hood that so many years ago.

There was nothing there.

She found herself at the local library, looking at copies of the newspaper on microfiche. Ruth had been afraid that they hadn’t had copies so old, but they did. She went through each page, looking for an article. It had to be there!

And, there it was. A small article, not too much space. Simply that Diana Brunvand of the address she’d gone to that night had been killed, and where, and that the police were investigating. She didn’t remember the article in the paper; her father had thrown the whole thing away right after he read it.

Ruth got a printout of the page, paying the librarian for it, and walked outside, deep in thought. She had to make things right – but what comfort would it be to Diana’s mother that Diana’s killer was dead?

But still she had to tell. So, she went back to the house. She had the address, after all. She’d never forget it. 

And when Angelica opened the door, she simply asked, "Can I come in for a minute?"

"Certainly," Angelica said, sat her down on a chair, and offered her some tea.

"I wanted to apologize for running off. I was rather startled. I had never had an encounter with a ghost."

Especially one her father caused. She was about to open her mouth and confess, but Angela replied, "Neither have I. She’s been trying to come home for eighteen years, and she’s never made it."

Those words stunned Ruth, stopped her from what she was going to say. There was a look in Angela’s eyes. Grief and sadness, like Ruth expected, but a wish, a desire as well.

Angela wanted to see her daughter again. If Ruth could make that happen, it would maybe give both Angela and Diana some closure.  
"She can’t come to you," Ruth said, "So, why don’t you go to her?"

It was a suggestion that clearly startled Angela, as her teacup wavered before she caught it with her other hand. The tea dripped onto the tablemat, but the cup was still intact. "I can’t. It’s so far... I don’t drive...."

"I could take you," Ruth said. It was the least she could do for Angela, for Diana. She could make it up to them now. She reached out and took Angela’s hand. "I’d like to."

"Thank you, my dear." Angela put down her cup and clasped Ruth’s hand in both of her own. Her hands were warm, unlike Diana’s.  
She resolved to not make this the last visit to Angela’s house. Or even not the last visit before she came to pick Angela up, take her to Diana, maybe resolve this for both of them.

And she had many visits to Angela’s house. The first time, it was delicate little sandwiches – not that she was into that kind of thing, but she thought that Angela might enjoy them. Angela scolded her a bit, but she could almost see the happiness. Then she brought Thanksgiving dinner and all the fixings, enough for the two of them. "But why?" Angela asked.

"Because I can. Because I want to," Ruth had replied, and at least Angela had let her feed her.

She visited Angela every few weeks because she felt that was what Diana would have done for her mother, had she been alive. She almost wished that the whole thing would never come to an end. But when she reunited mother and daughter, her task was done.

And then the night finally came. She brought tuna sandwiches – she’d discovered Angela loved them – and then picked Angela up. "I really hope this works," Ruth said. 

They drove up to where Ruth had seen the ghost. Angela’s hands were trembling, and she brought out her knitting. She was working on a yellow-and-black scarf. She became occupied with it, as if she barely realized that Ruth was there. 

Ruth hoped that it was for Diana, because she could not in good conscience keep it. It was bad enough that Ruth had knitted her a potholder for Christmas, which she had put up on the wall in her living room, just to remind her of what she had to do. She wasn’t sure what she would do with the potholder when it was all over.

"It’s about ten o’clock," she said finally. "I think I picked her up around ten thirty or so- should I drive up a bit further and then drive back?"

Angela looked around. "Yes, maybe we should."

Ruth drove down the road for about fifteen minutes, and then turned around. It seemed like it took forever before she spotted Diana standing, shivering on the side of the road, ready to try to hitchhike once more.

This time, she wouldn’t fail to get to her mother.

Ruth was rolling down the window to tell her to get in when Angela opened her door, running out to embrace Diana in the rain. "Diana? Oh, Diana!"  
She was holding her daughter tightly. Diana said something softly that Ruth couldn’t quite hear but sounded like an apology. 

Ruth wished that she could apologize to Diana for her father, but this was not the time. She could only sit in the car, window rolled down and rain splashing into the interior. "I’m sorry, Diana," she whispered. "But your killer is in Hell now."

There might have been an acknowledgement from the ghost before she faded away in her mother’s arms, after her mother had reassured her that she loved her. Ruth handed Angela the bouquet that she’d bought, and Angela placed it in the location where Diana had been.

And then they got in the car, and Ruth drove her home. There was near silence on the way. Ruth had done what she’d needed to do. She’d redeemed what her family had done.

There was only the confession left to do.

"I cannot thank you enough for what you have done," Angela told her, and gave her a one-armed hug.

"It was the least I could do," Ruth said at last. Angela shouldn’t have hugged her. It would make the next part so, so hard. "You see, my father was driving the car on that road nineteen years ago."

To her surprise, Angela hugged her again. "Why don’t we go inside, and we’ll talk?" Her tone was gentle and kind. There was a sad smile on her face.

Maybe, Ruth thought as she followed Angela to the house, maybe God thought that she deserved a new beginning.


End file.
